


I Like the Purple One: A Study of Shirts, Johnlock, and Brunch

by acciopotatoes



Series: Color Prompt Table 2014 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Google has informed me that aubergine is the fancy British word for eggplant, M/M, color prompt: aubergine, this is why Americans can't take you seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:09:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciopotatoes/pseuds/acciopotatoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt table #1: the color aubergine. I had to Google that, and it's a British word for eggplant? Whatever. Anyway, I also Googled "fandom" and "purple" because there were so many different options that I couldn't decide. The first result was the purple shirt of sex that Sherlock wears. Here we go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Like the Purple One: A Study of Shirts, Johnlock, and Brunch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purple_shirt_of_TARDIS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_shirt_of_TARDIS/gifts).



> I don't ship Johnlock, but I guess this could be a ship fic is you squint and overanalyze everything? Kellyn had better be happy. This is for you, you little Johnlock domestics shipper. Happy belated, belated birthday! (It was actually the first.) (No, I'm not going to say the year. Stalker.)

* * *

 

Clattering clothes hangers and frustrated noises woke John. Upon further inspection, he discovered Sherlock trying to get dressed. 

Not that he didn't have clothes on - but those were the rumpled clothes of the past two days, when Sherlock couldn't be bothered with what he was wearing - or eating, or sleeping - due to a case. It worried John, how involved Sherlock got. It made him think that maybe one day, a case would go on a bit longer than normal, and Sherlock would just drop. He ran himself to hard, not bothering to take care of himself. John often tried to remind him to eat something, to stop with the nicotine patches, to sleep once in a while - it rarely worked, unless John barricaded the door and ran down to get Mrs. Hudson to join in. Sherlock listened to Mrs. Hudson. Hell, so did John. 

Now, though, the case was over, and Sherlock was trying to find a shirt. John stopped to watch for a moment; Sherlock would grab a hanger, inspect the shirt for a second, and throw it away with a disgusted noise. 

"Makes you wish you actually washed your clothes once and a while, doesn't it?"

Sherlock didn't even glance his way; John was certain that Sherlock had known he was standing there all along. 

"I mean," John continued, "It's more than a little funny to see England's greatest detective struggle with something most normal people have mastered - finding something to wear."

"I'm glad you find your amusements in me, John. I'm sure this all must be very  _amusing._ " Sherlock paused. "And  _England's_ greatest detective? Only England? All of Europe, at the least. The world, most likely."

"Oh, stop pouting." John moved to the little kitchenette to start tea and maybe some toast, if there  ~~weren't severed body parts~~ wasn't something unappetizing in the fridge. 

Honestly, a bag of thumbs with still-congealing blood was not the sort of thing John wanted to see first thing in the morning. 

Whether that "first thing John wanted to see in the morning" was Sherlock or not, well, John would adamently deny it. 

For now. 

Sherlock had stopped throwing things for now, so John poked his head around the corner to see why. Sherlock was holding two hangers, one in each hand, looking back and forth between the two. One was a deep purple, and the other was plain white. 

"What's the occasion, anyway? You aren't one for putting in effort unless it's something incredibly interesting," John noted. 

Still not giving John a glance, Sherlock replied with a short, "It is interesting."

John shrugged and went back to making tea. "By the way, I like the purple one," he threw over his shoulder. 

Hopefully, Sherlock and his socially inept self would take that platonically. John hadn't meant to say it; it had just slipped out. 

A pause, then rustling sounds, which stopped after a moment. John took that to mean Sherlock was done, and brought two cups of tea with him.

Wow. 

Sherlock looked  _really_ good in that shirt. 

John brushed the thought away and set Sherlock's cup of tea down. 

"So, you still haven't answered."

Sherlock's reply was just as short as all his others were, this morning. "Answered what?"

"What you're fussing about. I mean, you went to Buckingham Palace in a sheet; what's the cause for clothes now?"

Sherlock muttered something. 

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

John really was having too much fun with this. 

Until the next reply.

"I-I was going to.... _askifyouwantedtogotolunchordinnerorsomething._ "

John blinked a few times. "W-What?"

"I wanted to know if you wanted to go and .... get food, maybe?"

If this was platonic, then why was Sherlock dressing up? And acting awkward? This whole morning so far, he hadn't looked at John, hadn't said anything more than the question required - 

_What if it wasn't platonic?_

_What if Sherlock was asking him out?_

_Like a date?_

John wasn't quite sure what possessed him to say what he said next.

"I- Sure, I'll go and get lunch with you."

Neither of them acknowledged that it would be more like brunch. 


End file.
